From Uniform Girls 34
After Mr Marks had finished with Jill he told her to go back to her room. He would send up her roommate, Samantha, who would fill Jill in on the general routine etc. The evening meal was at 7.30. At 7 o’clock Jill was to go and see Mr Fitcham who was to be her tutor. ‘Have you got that?’ Mr Marks asked.
He had only just finished caning her. Lying over the stool in the Correction Room, her head down almost at floor level, her squirming, desperately-clenching bottom up over the stool. Jill’s introductory caning, which all girls had from Mr Marks as soon as they started their course of Domestic Training. Not because they had done anything at this point but simply because there were starting and had to know what it felt like. Jill knew what it felt like all right as now, still gasping for breath, she struggled the skin-tight shorts up over her humming bottom. She was gasping, with intermittent sobs as well. She had had it on her two hands but most of all Jill had had it on her poor bottom. She tried to answer Mr Marks but proper words wouldn’t come out.
Mr Marks came close. His hand slid over Jill’s nude boobs. ‘Didn’t you enjoy it? Perhaps not? It’s meant to be a shock to the system of course; so you’ll learn fast. I hope you will learn fast, Jill.’
A final feel at the trembling boobs and he tells her to get her top on. He will see her again at supper time. Jill struggled into the tight top and put the brown flat-heeled shoes back on. She stood up and nervously straightened her thick, dark-brown wavy hair. Her first, dreadful, session with Mr Marks was presumably over. He smiled at her. ‘Come here, Jill. And turn round.’
Shakily Jill stepped close and turned so that her back was towards Mr Marks. Her bottom. His hand took hold of one tightly-encased cheek. ‘That’s it then, Jill. Now you say ‘Thank you Mr Marks.’
She stuttered it out. The hand slapped her rear. ‘Good. Now run along.’
Five minutes later in the little room upstairs Jill met Samantha. She was a pretty blonde, with a nice figure in the same brief and tight outfit that Jill had on. Smiling she asked if Jill had had her first session with Mr Marks. Jill nodded.
Samantha said, ‘So you won’t want to sit down for a while then. It’s a nasty shock, isn’t it, when you’ve only just got here. But you’ll find there’s plenty of that sort of thing. From Mr Marks and the others too.’
Samantha had been there for just two weeks. The girl who had previously been in the room had left two days earlier, her six-month ordeal finally over. The number of girls was kept at five, Jill was told. Still feeling that awful caning, she asked what they had to do all day.
‘Work,’ Samantha said. ‘Mostly. Work in the house and out in the garden as well. There’s study period in the evenings and you get tested on it. Another excuse for caning of course.’ Jill asked about Mr Canber.
‘Mr Canber. Oh yes. Did he try anything on? Want a nice quick screw on the way perhaps?’
Flushing, Jill said, ‘Well, sort of.’ Not mentioning the other business of course. ‘He said… it would help if I was friendly.’
Samantha made a face. ‘Yes, he does say that. Mr Tadley, he’s the gardener, he is the same. If you let them screw you they say they can put in a good word with Mr Marks or one of the others. But Mr Marks doesn’t take advice from the chauffeur or his gardener, does he?’
It seemed very likely that he didn’t. Jill shook her head. ‘Mind you,’ Samantha went on, ‘there’s the other side to it. They can get you into trouble if they feel like it, so you get extra canings. So it’s best to be a bit… well, pleasant. I mean not worry too much about a few gropes here and there. That doesn’t hurt you, does it.’
Jill didn’t answer that. She had had another sudden, unpleasant thought. ‘Wh… what about… Mr Marks and the others. The tutors. They don’t want to…?’
Samantha shook her head. ‘Mr Marks is not interested. You’ve already found out what he’s interested in. Caning the daylights out of you, that’s what. And the others…’ Linda shrugged. ‘Who’s your tutor? Mr Fitcham? Oh well, Mr Fitcham… He likes caning too of course. But also I’d say…’ But Samantha wouldn’t say. ‘I don’t see much of Mr Fitcham. You’ll just have to find out, won’t you Jill. And you’re to see him before supper. Yes?’
Jill shivered. Mr Fitcham could be worse than Mr Marks. If that was possible. Samantha said, ‘We have to change for supper. We have to wear a skirt, not these shorts. And knickers. The same top. You’d better change before you go to see Mr Fitcham.’ She grinned. ‘He’ll want you for the whole half hour, you can bet on that.’
At five minutes past seven Jill was back in the Correction Room. Less than an hour after she’d left it following that truly awful first caning. She was back… with Mr Fitcham now. ‘I think we’ll adjourn to the Correction Room,’ he said after no more than a couple of minutes in his room.
Jill was in the evening outfit now: a very short, flimsy blue cotton skirt and matching tight navy knickers underneath. The skirt was sufficiently short that it barely covered the knickers. Apart from this change the top was the same, as Samantha said, as were the knee-socks and shoes. In Jill’s head of course was the thought that she was going to be caned again. Because why else would Mr Fitcham bring her here? Like Mr Marks, Mr Fitcham didn’t give the impression of being a monster; he was ordinary-looking and had a sort of jokey, teasing way of talking. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t planning to give her another good hard caning. Like Mr Marks. A caning that will make her feel she is about to rocket out into orbit.
They are in the Correction Room and Mr Fitcham has closed the door. Jill wants to scream: Please, please. Not the cane again. I’ll do anything… Would she do anything? What Mr Canber and the gardener apparently want, and Mr Fitcham… Samantha wouldn’t say, or didn’t know, about Mr Fitcham. If he was interested… in that. Would she?
‘Take your knickers down, Jill,’ Mr Fitcham is saying. ‘And lift your skirt up. Let me have a look at you. Mr Marks caned you earlier I imagine.’
‘Yes… yes sir…’ Mr Fitcham has sat down in the armchair. and Jill has scrabbled her knickers down. Standing close in front of him she bunches the little skirt up round her waist. Mr Fitcham turns her, so that Jill’s bare bottom is in front of him. His hand fondles it.
‘Did you enjoy that then, Jill? Having it caned?’
‘No sir… Nooo…’
Mr Fitcham makes a ‘Mmmmm…’ sound. His hand is playing with her bare bottom which still shows the marks of Mr Marks’ caning. And she can still feel the caning. ‘It’s necessary though, Jill,’ says the soft voice. ‘You do understand that?’
She gasps out. ‘Yes sir…’ Mr Fitcham lets go and tells her to turn round. Jill shuffles round to face him, still holding her skirt high. Mr Fitcham’s eyes focus on her pussy, on the thick bush of curling-brown hair. The hand which has been playing with her bottom comes out again. Takes hold of Jill’s pussy. Jill’s knees tremble.
He says softly, ‘Caning is essential, Jill. I should really give you another one before supper.’
‘No sir… Her voice has an hysterical edge. ‘Please…’ Mr Fitcham’s fingers push in between Jill’s legs. She shifts her feet, parting them slightly. So that her thighs are not so tightly together. One of Mr Fitcham’s fingers slips in between the moist lips of Jill’s pussy. ‘Pl… please… not another…’ Words stuttering out. The fingers plus the thought of another caning have Jill trembling, like a leaf, her legs feeling like jelly.
‘Hmmm… perhaps we could… just spank you, Jill. Give you a spanking instead. For the moment. Of course I shall have to give you a caning. As your tutor. But right now…’
‘Yes sir. Yes… please…’
He takes his hand away. ‘All right then. Get your knickers right off. And then let’s have you here.’
Jill’s shaking hands grab at her knickers. Anything is better than a caning. Mr Fitcham tells her to take her shoes off as well. With both knickers and shoes off she gets over his lap. His hand pushes her legs apart. Slides in between them.
Jill makes a grunting sound. Mr Fitcham is softly talking.
‘You’ve got six months in front of you, Jill. It can be not too bad or it can he really heavy going. That’s what I always tell a girl who will be coming to me for tutoring. Especially a nice pretty one, eh Jill?’
Jill makes a ‘Nnnngghhh…’ sound. It is not intended as a sound of disagreement, of non-co-operation. Jill is not fighting what Mr Fitcham is doing. His hand. She doesn’t like it but she is not fighting it. If it will mean that maybe she will have an easier time. That is what Mr Fitcham is saying. If she is co-operative. Jill doesn’t like it but she is responding nonetheless. Her hips are beginning to move… her breathing is harsher.Mr Fitcham seems to approve of this. ‘That’s a good girl, Jill. In a moment we’ll have the spanking. But first of all… what a girl likes, eh?’